pulsing off

It's 3am.

Not an unusual time for me to be up or awake at. I think it's the best time to be awake at, everything's so quiet and serene, minus the sirens. But that's not why I'm up.

I'm panicking.

My medication is supposed to subdue the effects of anxiety, and for a time it did. But it's back. And it absolutely paralyzes me.

My heart is going way too fast.

I try and control it. Deep breaths, I say, deep breaths. Think about something like a bunny perhaps. But it doesn't work. I can feel myself getting worked up over nothing, over something, over everything.

I feel trapped.

It's like being claustrophic of being with yourself. And I can't do anything. Being in large groups terrify me, going to family gatherings, working, going shopping. All these things send me over the edge where I'll do anything I can to get out of it. I know it's not healthy and I know for people who don't have "issues" this is probably ridiculous. But I know there are those who know what I mean.

.....................

I'm devastated by the hole in my chest, the lifelessness of the side of me that was there when mom was there. I can't help but run every moment of the last days over and over again. All the questions, no answers. No peace over living my life without her by my side. No motivation to become anything but a hole in the ground. I fear over my family, so small and so close. If I were to lose another,I would become nothing. I already don't eat well, don't sleep well, don't breathe well. I search the house, the car, the streets, the web, the cards, the books, the clothes for her. For me. For something that looks like my heart.

Zombies and other ridiculous things

Question: Who exactly thought up the idea of zombies?
Was someone just sitting around back in the old days, bored out of their minds when suddenly they thought to themselves: "Y'know what? I think this world needs a little more weird and creepy things. I should create one. And I will call it a......zombie. Because obviously that's a perfect name. And this thing shall be a dead monkey.. no, moose, ....no....human. Yes. A dead human. And this dead human will have blue or white skin for no reason at all. And of course after all that time in the ground, they will be hungry. So they shall eat....carrots. No, no carrots. Um......jellybeans. No, not scary enough. I know! Humans. The dead human will eat living humans! AHA! BRILLIANT!"
Is that how it went? Honestly?
Was there no better idea to come up with then zombies who were buried normally, but all of a sudden when they arise are covered with massive scarring on their face and they still have their teeth and jewelery on? Really?
I mean, c'mon, it doesn't take a genius to create something like that. Or what about vampires? That you can kill them with garlic, or sunlight or a stake through the heart or holy water? HELLO PEOPLE!! Just wait until they turn into a bat and get a bird to eat it? Is that not the most simple idea? IT"S TWO FOLD! The bird gets dinner and you get rid of that pesky vampire.
Or black cats. Because they're obviously the only ones who hiss and raise their back. It's a gene thing right?
People, people, people. Logical things are way more frightening to the general population then made up things. Like having 3 elections in 6 months. Or that President Bush doesn't know his right hand from his left. Or that they sell "intimate" ideas in the baby section at Shopper's. Or that your barista knows exactly what you drink even though you only come in once a week.........it makes me shudder

The Rehearsal of death

I fear getting up every morning knowing that I won't be able to call my mom. That I won't be able to buy little silly things for her that would make her smile. Things with kitties, or butterflies or funny books or cutting boards. I dread that I won't know what step to take or if I'm making the right decision without talking to her, listening to her, crying to her. I fear that my heart will not be able to pull itself back into the lines and shape of a heart; that it will permantley be askew and jagged, hard to breathe and hard to beat. I fear that I've not only lost my mother and best friend, but that I've lost my final pieces with her as well. I've felt like I've been lost for a long time and my mama always shone a light for me. Now there's nothing but darkness and nothing but pain. It's too quiet, it's too loud. It's too bright to stay awake but too dark to sleep. Nothing is the same, all colours are subdue and look like they've been washed out. I haven't laughed, really laughed or smiled without my heart hurting at the movement. I don't want to see a gravestone with her name on it, because I know I will feel the weight of the earth on me also. I don't want to have to see a stone to know she was here, I want her breath, I want her voice, I want her. I have no need of air or daylight and I only hold on because I'm told to. Because I'm told it'll will get easier. Because it'll get better. Because time will heal the pain. I don't want it too. I don't want the pain to go away, I don't want it to get better because if it gets better than have I forgotten the reason for the pain in the first place? Have I forgotten the memories and smells and tastes and sounds that were her all my life? I don't want to achieve success, or have children, or do any of the things we always talked about because it won't matter if she is not beside me. It won't matter if she doesn't see it with me. How can you rejoice a death that is not your own? How can you rehearse for all the deaths you will experience in "life" such as pets, and seasons, and friendships, and careers, and dreams, and aspirations, and love, and desire and loved ones and then not be at all prepare when it comes? How can you prepare your heart for the heartbreak, train yourself to be strong, to normalize it, to accept it, to allow it to take it's place and then on the final night not remember a thing? You've rehearsed for so long! Even using yourself to rehearse with. You've sat in the audience memorizing the movement of death, the softness and the destruction, the balance and insanity, the beauty and the horrifying, the lull and the blast. You know Death stands by as babies are born and people fall in love; you know it's there at dinner tables, at basketball games, on family vacations, in board meetings. You know it's waiting patiently and quietly, letting you spend your time on things that are important, or maybe not that important in the end. It doesn't judge you or test you, it doesn't mock you or play with your mind, because after all, that's Life's job. No, Death simply rests, while you worrying your life away, spinning a blanket of memories, failures, successes, love, and unknowns. And when you least expect it, although you should have known, it stands in front of you and you run into it to be wrapped up and taken away. And we are always so surprised. So shocked that someone has be blanketed by Death. So dazed that Death would come for them out of all people. We just don't understand that Death is also spinning our blankets and when he's done we too will be gone. We don't understand that Death is necessary, that without Death, how would we live? We would have no urgency, no surge for living without the presence of Death. For how can an oak tree ever grow if there were no acorns to be buried?

What the cell?!

This is to the asshole who broke into my car, stole my cell, garage door opener (good one genius), two sweaters and all my change: What is wrong with you?!
First, why steal the change when you could've just taken the car, I mean why take a dime when there's a dollar bill right in front of you?
And why the sweaters? Do you think blue will bring out your eyes? I hope the tan one smells like cat piss and it stains your skin. That's right, cat piss.
And what exactly were you going to do with my cell? Call me? Call my friends and laugh at them? Call your mom? Here's an idea: Call your brain and let it know what an asshole it has for a body.
And if I find out you come back again you can guarantee yourself a sweet session of ass kicking by me personally.
And oh by the way, when you break into people's cars you probably shouldn't SMOKE before you do it. Because I dont smoke and neither does G so you might as well left your name and number where I can reach you and your pitiful existence! And there's a nice phone message waiting for you if you hack into that as well.